


To The Victor...

by naughty_sock



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Double Anal Penetration, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Held Down, Humiliation, Kneeling, M/M, Shower Sex, Spanking, Watersports, tied down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughty_sock/pseuds/naughty_sock
Summary: "Anyone still back there?" he called out while he shoved the bottles into his shower bag.When he didn't receive an answer, he shook his head.Maybe I really am wound too tight,he thought as he reached for his towel and wrapped it around his hips.





	To The Victor...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlyingAubergine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingAubergine/gifts).



Darren slammed the door of his locker shut hard enough that it swung right back in his face. Cursing, he blocked it with his hand.

"Hey, captain. What's that poor door ever done to you?"

He glanced across his shoulder. Mike, one of his teammates, gave him a bemused look while he hoisted his gym bag over his shoulder. Behind him, the rest of the team was packing up, about half of them already heading for the door, while a couple of stragglers emerged from the showers.

He was the only one still wearing his sweat-soaked shorts and jersey, and though the locker room was heated, the fabric felt clammy against his skin.

Conversations were subdued. They'd lost the most important game of the season by a two-point margin. The bitter taste of defeat was compounded by Darren missing a desperate attempt at a three-pointer as the clock was ticking down the final seconds.

He was furious with himself. He'd only been the team's captain since the beginning of the season, and he'd promised to do a better job than the last one - sworn that he would drag the team out of obscurity and into the championship.

"I don't like losing," he mumbled as he rubbed his thumb across the palm of his other hand where the edge of the door had smacked into it.

Mike snorted. "No kidding. I saw you trying to incinerate the hoop with the power of your mind back there." He ruffled Darren's short-cropped hair before playfully shoving him away. "For a moment there, I almost thought I saw it catch fire."

"Oh, shut up," Darren groused. While he wasn't exactly small, Mike still loomed over him by a head and a half and being shoved by him always threw you off-balance, no matter how playfully it was done.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Last year, we were at the bottom of the barrel. Today, we narrowly missed the championship. We'll get there next year."

"Sure," Darren mused hollowly. "Next year." He tried not to let on how sour the words tasted on his tongue. Next year seemed impossibly far away.

Catching his tone, Mike rolled his eyes and slapped Darren's shoulder as he walked past him.

"Cheer up, captain. Nothing to be done about it now. The season is over for us. Have some fun. Go to a party or something. Get laid. You need to loosen up, man. It can't be healthy to always be wound that tight."

Darren's gave him a look. He liked to party as much as the next guy. And he had every right to be angry about such a narrow defeat. And he definitely wasn't uptight. He knew how to have fun. He had plenty of fun. All the time. So Mike could just as well stop judging him and fuck off.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Darren snapped, but Mike only laughed and kept walking. When he opened the door to the locker room, the pulsing beat of club music washed into the room.

 _Great,_ Darren thought. _Fucking spectacular._ Instead of packing up and celebrating on their way home – the way decent people would– the visiting team was having a victory party in their locker room. Classy. Awesome.

He could just imagine the captain's smarmy, self-righteous grin. Ian Hawcourt was the kind of person who considered a day without grandstanding to be a day wasted. He probably gave a rousing speech after the game. He'd probably had it prepared in advance in practiced in front of the mirror. He was probably laughing at Darren's team right now.

Darren clenched his hands into fists. He really wanted to punch that damn locker door again. Or Ian Hawcourt's face. It was a very punchable face.

Still hovering by the door, Mike let a couple of their teammates pass. "You want me to wait? There's a party at Sparrow Hall. We decided to meet up there while you were still glaring at the hoop."

Darren declined. He needed some time to cool off. "Nah, I'll take a shower. Punch the wall a couple of times." He threw a halfhearted grin Mike's way. "You know. The usual."

"Try jerking off. It might do wonders for your mood."

"Now, you're just making it weird."

"No one likes a grumpy cat, Darren."

"Fuck off."

Mike grinned, gave him the finger, and sauntered out the door.

 

* * *

 

The warm water was soothing. At least soothing enough that Darren no longer felt like testing the strength of his knuckles against the solid white tiles adorning the walls.

Bracing one hand against them, he ran the other across the blond stubble on his scalp as the water cascaded down his back. If he closed his eyes and concentrated on the rushing sound coming from the showerhead, he could ignore the faint beat of music that the walls could not completely shut out.

He took a deep breath and counted his heartbeats.

The music stopped.

 _Finally,_ he noted, tension easing out of his shoulders. _Now, pack up and go home. Go back to where you came from, and next year, we will beat your asses._

Shutting off the water, he bent down to collect his shampoo and body wash.

A scraping noise from the locker room made him turn his head.

He craned his neck hoping to see around the edge of the wall that separated the showers from the locker room.

"Anyone still back there?" he called out while he shoved the bottles into his shower bag.

When he didn't receive an answer, he shook his head. _Maybe I really am wound too tight_ , he thought as he reached for his towel and wrapped it around his hips.

A muffled snicker made him freeze, and, in an instant, his anger was back, breaking through the surface below which it had been simmering. His own team had gone home, and the staff that was left wouldn't sneak into the locker room. That left the other team.

"Who the fuck is there?" Darren shouted, annoyance coloring his voice.

He crossed the showers and walked around the corner of the wall. "I swear if any you jackasses think that just because you won the match, you can– unf. What the FUCK?"

He had barely time to register two figures jumping towards him when he rounded the corner. Before he could raise his hands to ward them off, a black bag descended over his head. The smell of old socks filled his nose.

Darren jerked backward.

Taking advantage of his disorientation, a pair of strong hands pushed against his chest, throwing him into the wall behind him.

His heart lept into his throat. He surged forward, twisting out of the grip that clamped around his upper arm, and swung his right fist wildly at where he thought one of his attackers must be, while he tried to pull the bag off his face.

"Now, now," a voice laughed when his blow failed to meet anything but air. "No fighting on university grounds. It's in the rules, I heard." The voice sounded vaguely familiar. "Go and get him, boys. Let's make it a night to remember."

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and forced his arms behind his back. The same voice came back, close by his ear. "Or at least make it one that _you_ won't forget anytime soon."

Darren threw his weight against one of the people holding him, and they stumbled sideways.

Then someone kicked his legs out from under him, and he crashed to the ground. He winced when his knees hit the tile floor. "What the fuck are you doing? Let me go."

He was dragged back into the showers. His feet couldn't find purchase on the floor while he was moving, and he couldn't get enough leverage to wrench himself out of the grip they had on him. He could hear people filing into the shower behind him, and for the first time, his anger wasn't enough to subdue the fear that was snaking up his spine.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" he shouted when they finally stopped dragging him. His arms were twisted behind his back, forcing him to flip around until he was kneeling on the wet tiles.

"Well, Darren, it's like this," the voice said, and Darren noticed a slight slurring to the words. "We spent the past two hours making you our bitch out on the court, and now we're going to make you our bitch in here. Properly, this time. So that next year, you'll know your place and remember that it's not nice to give the reigning champions such a hard time."

"What the fuck, man?" He didn't really believe what he was hearing. While he was still trying to parse what was happening to him, his brain finally made a connection between the voice and a face.

"Ian?" he asked. Of course, it was Ian. Who the fuck else could it be? Loud-mouthed, arrogant, I-own-the-fucking-world-and-everything-in-it Ian.

"Give the man a price," Ian shouted to the apparent amusement of his teammates.

Darren felt a large body kneel beside him, and Ian's voice rumbled in his ear. "Wanna take a guess what that price is?" he asked, and then Darren felt a sharp slap against his towel-covered ass.

A spike of fear and outrage lanced through him. "Stop messing around, Ian. You've had your fun, okay? You guys won. What more do you want?"

"I told you, Darren. I want to make you my bitch."

The towel was torn off him, and Darren cursed viciously. He tried to get up, tried to twist and turn, tried to kick out with his legs, which only resulted in even more hands pushing him down. It was useless. He was folded in half, his chin just above his knees, his bare ass sticking out for everyone to see, and Ian, _fucking Ian_ , was kneading his cheeks with his hands, his lewd groan ringing in Darren's ears.

Darren could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He was panting from the exertion of his struggle, and the sound seemed unnaturally loud within the confines of the bag that rendered him blind.

He heard the popping of a plastic cap, and then something wet and warm slid between his ass cheeks. A shocked grunt tore out of him.

"Now, we don't want you to say that we didn't take good care of you, Darren," Ian said as he worked the lubricant between Darren's cheeks.

Darren squirmed when he felt fingers pushing into his hole, and his body instinctively clamped down on them.

Ian laughed. "Oh, ho. Look at that boys. I think he's done this before. See? Nice and easy, two fingers already. Am I right, Darren? Do you like to take a thick, hard cock up your ass? Because you're about to get mine."

Darren gritted his teeth. This wasn't happening. It was insane. Sure, he'd heard rumors. When Darren had taken on the mantel of team captain, his predecessor had found him after practice one day and warned him about Ian and his team, mumbling something about punishments and rituals and not pissing him off, but Darren had assumed he'd been talking about keyed cars or a punch to the face. This... this was... His blood froze in his veins.

 _Rape,_ a voice in the back of his mind helpfully supplied. It was the same voice that berated him when he missed a shot, the same voice that cursed at him when he fell down until he pushed himself back to his feet. _Ian is going to rape you, and there's nothing you can do about it._

He hated the voice in the back of his mind. In fact, the only thing he hated more than the voice was Ian _fucking_ Hawcourt.

He couldn't fight him off. There were too many people holding him down, and he didn't believe there was anything he could say that would make Ian stop. And he sure as hell wasn't going to beg. But resigning himself to fate was a hard pill to swallow. It sat heavily inside his gut, like a lump of smoldering coal. His face felt flushed as Ian thrust his fingers in and out of his ass.

"Cat got your tongue?" Ian asked. "Look, boys. He's shy." More laughter met this statement.

 _Fucking asshole thinks he's a comedian_ , Darren thought bitterly. He tried to zone out, tried not to let what was happening to his body get to him, but Ian apparently loved the sound of his own voice because he kept chatting away as if they were sitting in a bar, having a beer together like two old friends.

"Me and my boys here had a good game tonight. We've been on a winning streak, you know." he paused, then added. "Yeah, you probably _do_ know. But what you _don't_ know is that we have a post-victory ritual. Coincidentally, it's the same as our post-defeat ritual. Sort of a good luck thing to help us win the next game. Call it superstition if you want, but it's worked out pretty well for us this season, and, in any case, it's a good form of team building, don't you think?"

"Raping someone from the team you beat?" Darren growled unable to stop himself. "What? Beer pong was too boring for you?"

"Oh, sassy. I like it." Ian replied. "Let's see if you like this."

He felt Ian shift behind him, heard the rustle of fabric as he pushed his shorts down to his knees, and felt the tip of Ian's cock press between his ass cheeks. Darren sank his teeth into his bottom lip, determined not to make a sound, as Ian pushed into him.

His muscles seized around Ian's cock, and he could hear the other man groan in appreciation. A hot wave of embarrassment washed through Darren.

"Oh, yeah," Ian crooned. "Nice and tight. Just the way I like it. You'll make such a good little bitch for us, Darren. I can tell."

Even though he couldn't see anything with the bag over his head, Darren shut his eyes. He pressed his face to his knees and focused on his breathing as Ian dragged his cock back out of his body until only the head was lodged inside him. When he pushed back in, slow and deep, Darren held his breath.

His muscles were tense, and he could feel a tremor running through his thighs. All around him, Ian's teammates were cheering him on. He could hear the clinking of glass as bottles were opened and nudged against each other. More than one person was telling Ian to hurry up so they could have a turn, and Darren realized that his ordeal would not be over when Ian was done with him.

It made him surge against the people holding him down, but they seemed to have anticipated his renewed will to fight and held him down harder. Their hands dug painfully into his upper arms, and he was sure that he would dislocate his shoulder if he tried to twist any further away from them.

A sharp slap on his bare ass made him yelp.

"What did I tell you about fighting back?" Ian said. His hips snapped sharply against Darren's ass, pushing his cock all the way in. "It's not allowed."

Darren swallowed a curse. He felt full and hot and mortified, and when Ian started fucking him in earnest, Darren gasped for air.

"That's it, Darren. You're doing real good. Taking it like a champ. Couldn't do it on the field, but you're living up to it now. That's right. Almost there. I'm going to fuck you so deep, you'll beg us for more before we're done with you."

"Fuck you," Darren ground out weakly.

Ian laughed. Or tried to. The sound he made certainly started out as a laugh, but his body went stiff halfway through, and Darren could feel his cock throb inside him as Ian came and spilled his come deep inside Darren's body.

Darren clenched his teeth. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him weak. No matter what they did, they weren't going to break him.

Ian gave him a final slap on his butt before he pulled out. "Good boy," he said condescendingly.

Darren heard him get to his feet. "Someone get me another bottle. Thank you. Now boys, let's form an orderly line." He snickered. "No need to rush. We have all night. And let's have some music, because we fucking beat the home team tonight, boys. And we deserve a party."

A cheer rose in the shower room, the sound echoing off the tiles. Darren went back to concentrating on his breathing as the music started up and someone else kneeled behind him.

He counted his breaths, inhaling through the nose. One. Two. Another man notched his cock into his ass. He exhaled through his mouth. Three. Four. A sharp snap of the guy's hips buried the cock inside him.

Inhale. It was bigger than Ian's.

One. Two. He could feel the girth stretch his hole as the guy set a fast, brutal pace.

Exhale. Every time the cock pounded his ass, Darren felt a shiver run through him. The head dragged across a sensitive spot inside him with every thrust that speared him.

Three. Four. Heat pooled low in his body. Sweat beaded his forehead.

It didn't feel good. It couldn't possibly feel good. Humiliation burned through him when his own cock twitched where it was wedged between his thighs.

Inhale, damn it. The pounding he received was relentless. The guy grunted and groaned like a pig in rut, and Darren was pushed forward by the force of his thrusts.

One. Two. Focus on the count. Just focus on the count. Nothing else matters.

"Fuck, Ian, he's got such a tight ass," the guy hissed.

"I told you, he'd be perfect, Chase," Ian replied.

"Fuck, I'm going to explode."

Exhale. His body was burning, his ass stretched to capacity. Behind him, Chase's thrusts became erratic and sloppy, losing coordination.

"So good. So fucking good. Gonna fill you up with so much come, your pretty ass will be dripping with it." The head of his cock hit his insides hard at a different angle. The pressure against Darren's prostate intensified.

Three. Fo–

Darren moaned.

He tried to swallow the sound, but it tumbled from his mouth. His face burned, and his hands clenched into fists so tightly that he could feel the edges of his short fingernail dig unto his palms.

The sound had been too quiet for anyone to hear over the music and Chase's grunts, but his cock was half hard, and the mortification lanced through him like a white-hot poker.

Chase came with a rumbling bellow. When Darren felt the guy's cock twitch inside his ass, he released the breath he'd been holding with a shaky sound.

"Yeah, man. Take it. Take it all. Oh, fuck."

Darren expected him to pull out, but Chase stayed inside him and pushed even deeper. Then a sudden wave of warmth flooded his insides. It took Darren's shocked brain a frozen second to realize what was happening.

Then Chase pulled out, and the guys around them started to hoot and holler.

Darren felt warm liquid leak out of his hole and run down his legs.

He reared up. He was screaming bloody murder, curses flying unintelligibly off his tongue.

"Well, fuck me," Chase laughed. "I guess I had too much to drink."

Darren managed to get his feet under him and used every ounce of strength he had to throw off the guys holding him down. Alarmed shouts echoed in the shower room, and more hands reached for him.

Chase's piss ran down between Darren's legs, but he paid it no mind. All he wanted was to get out of there.

He didn't get far. Before he had taken two steps, he was wrestled back to the ground.

"Be careful. Don't get any of that stuff on you."

"Who cares? We're in the shower, dude."

"That is so sick," someone nearby said.

"I don't know Mikey. He seems to enjoy it," one of the guys holding him down said. "Look at his dick."

"Oh, hello. What have we here?" Ian's voice was above him and Darren was pulled into a kneeling position. A large, sweaty hand wrapped itself around his dick and gave him a few perfunctory jerks. "Do you enjoy being our party favor, Darren? Do you get off on being used like that?"

"Fuck you, asshole." Darren tried to twist his hips to escape Ian's grasp, but the hand tightened around his dick until he whimpered.

"Nah, thanks," Ian shot back. "The only ass that gets fucked tonight is yours."

Ian let go of him, his voice rising as he addressed the crowd.

"Get one of the benches in here and something to tie him up. Let's see how many dicks our little bitch can take before he comes."

Footsteps hurried across the floor as people scampered to obey his orders. The bench scrapped across the tiles as it was dragged in.

"Should we clean him up before the next one takes his turn?"

"Yes, please. This is super gross," a nasal voice spoke up.

"Tiny, my friend, just for that comment, you've earned yourself the next turn." Ian's voice was hard. "Don't clean him up," he commanded just as Tiny muttered. "Stop calling me that. My name is Trevor."

Darren's hands were tied behind his back. He swallowed heavily as he was forced to bend over the bench until his chest rested upon the wood. His flagging cock dangled for all to see beneath his abdomen.

For the first time, he was glad for the gym bag over his face. It smelled terrible, but he didn't want anyone to see his face.

 _Stay angry,_ he told himself. _Anger will get you through this._

"I'm going to kill you for this," he ground out.

Someone set down on the bench next to him while another man's hand, Tiny's presumably, landed on his hips as he took up position behind him.

"I don't believe you're going to do anything," Ian said casually while Tiny lined himself up behind him. His tone held a disconcerting amount of confidence.

He could hear a disgusted "ugh" over the music. Tiny, who clearly had _not_ earned his nickname for the size of his cock, which was fat even though barely erect, had trouble getting his dick into Darren's ass.

"I need more lube," he groused.

"Nah, Chase and I got him wet enough for you," Ian said mildly. "What you need is to get over yourself and get that dick hard."

Ian shifted beside him and gripped his butt with both hands. Darren gritted his teeth.

"We don't want Darren here to believe that you don't appreciate is tight little ass." Another slap forced a hiss out of Darren's mouth. "Look at it. Round and pink and just waiting for you to pound that dick into it as far as it will go. Yeah, that's it. Give it a good stroke and then ram it in there where it belongs."

"Come on, Tiny. Get it in there. You're holding up the line," someone shouted over the music and conversation.

Absurdly, Darren's mind latched onto a chant of _One more, one more, one more_ that rose up in the far corner of the shower room.

A drinking game? A keg stand?

The knowledge that all around him, the visiting team was acting as if this was a perfectly normal victory party infuriated him. Belatedly, it occurred to him, that for all he knew, this might actually _be_ normal for them. Hadn't Ian said as much? Hadn't his former team captain tried to warn him?  And that train of thought provoked an altogether different reaction. In spite of the warm humidity inside the shower, Darren felt chilled to the very marrow of his bones.

In the seconds during which he had been distracted, Tiny had managed to stroke himself to full arousal.

"Good man. I knew I could count on you," Ian praised his teammate when he pressed the head of his cock between Darren's ass cheeks.

Tiny was gigantic.

When he pushed his cock into Darren's ass, all the air left Darren's lungs. He mouth fell open on a silent gasp, and his breathing stalled. He felt his hole stretch as Tiny pushed in inch by inch, shallow thrusts easing his penetration. When he finally bottomed out inside him, Darren felt as if his whole body was stretched like an elastic cord, wound tightly around Tiny's dick and reverberating with every move he made. He lowered his head until his chin rested on the edge of the bench as he struggled for air.

Ian patted his head. "Good boy. If you could see yourself right now. Your hole is stretched so tight around his dick, it looks like he's about to split you open. Fuck, I'm getting hard again. I bet you can feel him up to your stomach."

Darren didn't answer. He didn't think he could have even if he'd wanted to.

Tiny started easy. Slow, shallow thrusts that gave his body time to adjust to his girth. His heft wasn't painful, exactly, but Darren felt so full that he wasn't sure that he would have been able to take a hard fuck right away. Tiny's dick rubbed against his prostate, his length pressing against it until Darren felt a twinge of pleasure flow through him.

He bit the edge of the bench through the sack over his head. He didn't want to feel this way. He dreaded his body betraying him further. If he actually got off... If they actually managed to make him come...

He wouldn't be able to take the humiliation.

Tiny sped up. A pleased grunt fell from his mouth as his hips snapped against Darren's ass. "So good. I forgot how fucking good this feels."

Ian made an acquiescing sound. "Should have kept your grades up. Then the coach wouldn't have made you sit out the past two games. Now, fuck him harder. He can take it, and I want to see if you can make him come all over himself."

"Oh, fuck. Yes."

Tiny slammed into him hard enough to shove him across the bench. The rope with which he was tied down bit into his back, and his nipples rubbed against the wood. Sparks of pleasure sizzled through him. Darren squeezed his eyes shut.

Tiny's dick felt like a hammer drill inside him, and Darren was so preoccupied trying to fight down his body's reaction to getting pounded to within an inch of his life, that it didn't immediately register that Ian had picked up the conversations where they had left off.

"No, what I believe you will do when this is over is pretend that it never happened. You'll try to forget it." A familiar sound accompanied his words, and Darren realized that Ian was jerking off while he watched Tiny plow his ass.

"Would you like me to tell you, how I know that?" Ian continued. He didn't wait for a reply. "I know that because that's what your predecessor did. That's what everyone does, Darren. Because, let's be real here, who would believe you?"

Darren squeezed his eyes shut. Ian's words sunk into him, far deeper than Tiny's dick. He pictured himself going to the police after this, pictured himself confessing to his parents, and felt shame burn through him. Would they believe him? And if they did... How could he tell them? Once he told them, they would know, and he would see that knowledge reflected in their eyes every time they looked at him. And maybe that would be worse.

 _He's right, isn't he?_ That god damn fucking voice again. Would he never be able to escape it? _You're going to keep your mouth shut, aren't you?_

"I'll make you a deal though," Ian continued, unaware of the turmoil burning through Darren like a wildfire. "I'll give you a choice. I promise that I will make them stop fucking you when you come. So you need to decide... are you going to take every single cock on my team, or are you going to give in and let your body enjoy what it so clearly wants? Because I can see your dick, Darren. And you're hard as a rock."

 _No_ , Darren wanted to shout. He wanted to kill Ian - just wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze until he went limp.

"It's up to you," Ian said.

Making that choice was impossible. Darren couldn't decide which option was worse, which choice would make it easier for him to look at himself in the mirror tomorrow.

Behind him, Tiny wrecked his ass with his cock, pounding him hard and fast, until his body felt like a live wire, shaking and trembling in time with his thrusts. Shivers ran through Darren's legs as he tried to hold back, tried to keep himself from coming, but every time Tiny's cock surged into him, the stimulation heightened until it threatened to overwhelm him.

When Tiny climaxed, it was almost a relief. One last thrust buried the giant cock balls-deep inside his ass, and Darren panted with the exertion of controlling himself.

"Well done, Tiny. Now, piss inside him."

"What?"

"You heard me. I want you to piss inside him. Stop being such a sissy. You can take a shower when you're done."

"Fuck."

Darren should have felt ashamed. Hell, when Chase had pissed inside him, he _had_ felt ashamed, but now the emotion was beyond him. He was still trying to reign in his breathing when he felt Tiny let go and hot spurts of liquid painted his insides and filled him to overflowing until it was squeezing back out past the shrinking plug of Tiny's cock.

"That is so fucking filthy," Tiny complained when he finally pulled out.

"It's fucking hot," another, much deeper, voice interjected. "But if you don't like it, get up and make room for someone who does."

Sounds of a scuffle reached Darren's ears, and, next to him, Ian laughed. He could hear the snap and hiss of a beer can opening somewhere close by. The music went quiet for a second as one song ended and a new one began.

"So filthy. Man, look at that hole," the deep voice continued. Two hands grabbed Darren's ass and pushed it open. "Ian, my man. I bet he can take both of us now."

Ian laughed so hard that Darren thought he might fall off the bench. "See, this is why we're friends, Tom. You always have the best ideas."

"No." The denial flew from Darren's tongue even though he knew it would fall on deaf ears.

"Yes," Tom said with obvious glee.

"You mean, _hell yes_ ," Ian added because he _fucking always_ had to have the last word.

In spite of the dread rushing through him, his body gave no resistance to the first cock that pushed inside him. When Ian slid off the bench to wedge himself in next to Tom, Darren grit his teeth. With the two of them taking up space behind him, they couldn't push their cocks in all the way, but that didn't bring him any relief. Instead, they got in just deep enough for their cocks to hit that fucking sensitive spot that Tiny and Chase had already stimulated until Darren's body was teetering on the edge of orgasm.

His ass was stretched around their pistoning cocks, one withdrawing while the other pushed in ruthlessly, relentlessly, both hitting that fucking perfect spot inside him with uncanny accuracy.

Darren fought. He tried to hold on, tried to deny the pleasure, the intensity, the heat rolling through him. He bit the inside of his cheek. The pressure kept building in his gut. He could feel his balls twitch, feel every fucking drop of precome drip from the head of his cock.

"No, " he pleaded when he felt himself tip over. "No."

"Fuck, yes." Ian cheered.

Darren didn't hear him. The world shrunk down to the stretched muscles of his ass spasming around the cocks that were fucking him into oblivion, the rushing sound of his blood pounding through his veins and the intense release of pressure inside his balls as heat unfurled inside him and his whole body shook with the intensity of his climax.

Ian slapped his ass. More come and piss were released inside him.

"I knew we would get you there, Darren." He and Tom pulled out, leaving him panting across the bench. "Now, remind me, everyone. Who won the bet? Everyone who put their money down for four and five wins!"

This announcement was met with general laughter.

Darren was still shaking. Sweat clung to his skin. He felt numb. Piss and come ran down the back of his thighs, and he wasn't sure if he imagined hearing it drip onto the tiles beneath him. Worse was the wetness on the parts of his chest that didn't rest on the bench. His come had splashed onto his skin, and the knowledge only added to his humiliation.

Ian gave him another pat on the head. "See? I knew you'd like it in the end."

Darren didn't have the wherewithal to answer, but he jerked when someone else kneeled behind him.

"No," he protested weakly. The words felt heavy on his tongue. "You said you'd stop if I came."

Ian made a regretful noise and crouched down next to him. "Darren, my gullible friend. Why on earth would you trust me to keep my word?"

Another cock was shoved up his ass.

 

 


End file.
